


Someone To Watch Over Me

by dankscully



Category: Agent Carter (TV)
Genre: Angie is a nurse, F/F, Peggy is her patient, WWII AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-23
Updated: 2015-09-29
Packaged: 2018-04-16 21:37:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 17,002
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4641063
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dankscully/pseuds/dankscully
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's 1944, Angie is a very tired and very sassy nurse somewhere in the middle of France. Peggy comes in with a few wounds that need patching up.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> It's been forever since I've written any fic, like.... years. But I'm in cartinelli hell so this is an attempt to dig myself out. Thanks to Teloka for being my beta for the first part of this story, and to automatgalpals for giving this a read-through and offering suggestions! Aaaannddd the art is by me!

** **

 

**ARDENNES, JANUARY 1945**

“Peggy!”

Angie was screaming as she ran, though her voice was easily lost amid the chaos of the battlefield. Around her, the survivors of the attack wailed for help, calling in different languages for a medic, or for their mothers. Those of higher rank bellowed orders to anyone capable of standing, though the roar of aeroplane engines above her - allied and enemy - muted them almost entirely. Bursts of machine gun fire sounded sporadically as the soldiers still in one piece returned fire through the dense trees ahead. Occasionally a spray of bullets or the sound of a stray mortar shell reminded her that the Germans ensconced in the woods did not consider this battle over.

“Peggy!”

She was growing hoarse, but that wasn’t going to stop her. Peggy Carter was out here somewhere. Angie _knew_. She’d been among the first to charge in, of course. It didn’t matter how many times Angie repeated gently against her lips, _honey, you’re not Captain America. You can’t replace him_ , the guilt Peggy had felt regarding Steve Rogers’ death had begun to morph more and more into a sort of recklessness, a headstrong desire to throw herself into danger, as if trying to prove she could pick up where he left off.

A spray of machine gun fire in her direction reminded her suddenly that the red cross on her armband offered her little protection against bullets or the mortar shells that were still landing in this patch of no-man’s-land. Suddenly, the other field medic beside her screamed something in her ear and pointed ahead. A downed soldier several yards away was dragging himself from a muddy crater, wailing for help. The other medic began to move in his direction.

Then Angie saw it.

“Wai-” She began, her fingers grasping at his arm to halt him, but she was cut off as the shell struck just feet away from them and exploded.

The pair were tossed like ragdolls in the blast, hurled in different directions before landing heavily in the muddy snow in a spray of earth and shrapnel.

When Angie came to - a moment later, hours? - she found she was unable to move, although she wasn’t sure whether she was incapable, or if her body was simply unwilling. She could hear nothing but the ringing in her ears. Trying to steady her panicked breathing, she watched as it escaped her mouth in thick plumes into the freezing air, her teeth chattering more from shock than from the cold. With a great deal of effort, she rolled herself onto her back and drew a shaking hand in front of her to cross herself, whispering a prayer in Italian to the grey sky above her.

The ringing in her ears eventually stopped, and she found everything seemed much quieter than before. The injured man they had spotted earlier was silent. Angie did not want to think about what that meant. She cast her gaze around her, catching sight of the other medic lying numbly on his side a few feet away. He was alive, she realised, and a small amount of relief washed over her.

Pushing her hands into the disgusting mix of mud and snow under her, Angie moved to drag herself to her feet. As she did, her eyes caught sight of something nearby and she immediately froze, feeling her heart still inside her chest. A familiar body lay to her left, several feet from her, face down and immobile in the mud. She recognised the tumble of brown hair spilling from under the helmet, the unmistakably female shape of the body.

“Peggy!”


	2. Chapter 2

**FRANCE, NOVEMBER 1944**

Angie shivered and drew the enamel mug of lukewarm coffee - or whatever swill it was they were trying to pass off as coffee - to her lips and took another sip. She grimaced, but swallowed despite the taste. By her count, she had already been awake for _at least_ 24 hours, and at this rate, it didn’t look like she was going to be able to rest any time soon. She closed her eyes momentarily, shifting against the wooden crate she was perched on, and allowed herself to lean back against the heavy canvas of the tent. She felt herself starting to drift, and immediately snapped her eyes open. No, there was no sense in falling asleep now, she was back on duty in a few minutes and a barely-awake nurse was no good to anyone.

The sun was only just rising through the trees and despite everything, Angie thought the view was actually quite beautiful.

The light filtered through the tall pines and was illuminating the landscape in a soft pink glow that reminded her of the times she used to visit her uncle Serge at his farm on the outskirts of New York, where her younger cousins would wake her loudly at the crack of dawn to hunt for eggs in the chicken coop. She smiled, but her reverie was broken by the unmistakable sound of jeeps tearing into the camp and heading directly for the medical tent.

Though she was separated from the commotion by the thick canvas tent behind her, she could still make out the all-too familiar sound of ranking officers shouting orders and pulling injured men from the backs of the jeeps and ambulances they had arrived in, the clamor of nurses and surgeons as they raced to help. She knew her brief respite was over.

“Martinelli!” A shrill voice called from somewhere inside, summoning her to help.

Angie breathed a heavy sigh and tipped the remaining liquid from her mug onto the muddy ground. _Break time’s over, sweetheart_.

 

Pushing through the flaps of the tent, Angie was greeted by the distressingly familiar sight of nurses and surgeons alike scurrying in all directions, grasping for any and all medical equipment within reach. Soldiers on stretchers with wounds of varying degrees of severity were ferried inside to whatever free beds that could be found, or straight into surgery. Angie watched as a soldier missing both legs was rushed towards an operating table but before he reached it, the man suddenly went silent, eyes falling shut. She watched on helplessly as the two soldiers carrying the stretcher paused, sharing a look that told her instantly that the man they had been carrying had been a friend, someone they had cared about. They retreated silently back the way they came, and another casualty quickly took the dead man's place on the operating table.

“Martinelli!” The same shrill voice from a moment earlier caught her attention, making her spin immediately to find the source.

Standing near the entrance of the tent stood a tall, grim-faced woman who appeared amazingly calm amongst the chaos. Director Andrews. The highest ranking member of the nurse corps, her superior, and a regular pain in Angie's behind on the best of days. Around her stood a group of soldiers, most of whom seemed relatively uninjured, save for two young men that were holding ribs and shoulders where they had caught some shrapnel, but seemed otherwise intact. And a woman. Angie almost didn't see her at first, her view blocked partially by the large mustachioed man in a bowler hat that was keeping her upright.

Director Andrews beckoned Angie towards her with a wave of her slim arm.

“Nurse Martinelli, scrub up” the woman snapped as she approached, “you will be accompanying Dr. Matthews while he operates on Captain Carter.”

Andrews motioned towards the barely conscious woman who had become visible to her now that the other soldiers had parted somewhat. She’d never heard of a female captain before, but the brass glinting on her uniform wasn’t lying.

Angie nodded quickly to her superior, wasting no time in turning on her heels to find a mask and gloves.

“Martinelli,” the woman called after her, “you will take _particular_ care. Captain Carter is a very important patient and if you should make so much as the _slightest_ error I will hear about it!”

Angie saluted, though she knew it wasn’t strictly necessary. It got the point across and the grim-faced woman quickly turned back to the cluster of soldiers around her, directing other nurses to tend to the two wounded men.

These fellas must have been important if Andrews was getting her uniform dirty for them, Angie mused idly as she pulled a pair of gloves onto her left hand. And a woman captain! _Who woulda thought it_.

 

 

“Lucky you, Martinelli” a man’s voice drawled in her ear, altogether far too close. “Looks like you’re with me. Be a doll and scrub me up?”

“I aint slept in two days, Matthews, you sure you trust me enough not to stab you in your ugly mug with a scalpel?” Angie shot back, scowling. She was only half joking. Matthews was her least favourite amongst the lecherous surgeons, and the most handsy by a long shot.

“Sweetheart, you really gotta stop flirting with me, I’m a married man” Matthews laughed, drawing closer as Angie pulled the surgical mask over his face to shut him up.

“Oh yeah? Does your wife know you’re sleeping with half the nurse corps?” Angie hissed, and she could tell the man was smirking behind his mask. _Smug jerk._

She stepped back, shoving a glove onto the surgeons outstretched hand and snapping it with more force than was strictly necessary. She wasn’t in the mood for an argument, but she couldn’t help her tongue. Her big mouth had gotten her into too much trouble lately, and she really should stop to think before she opened it. But Matthews was being more of a thorn in her side than usual and she didn’t feel like he deserved her best manners.

Having scrubbed up, she pulled back the flimsy curtain that separated the operating table from the rest of the medical tent. The young woman - Captain Carter - was already laying unconscious on her back, helmet and outer clothing discarded on the floor beside her. Angie only needed a moment to assess the woman's wounds - the blood seeping through her crisp white shirt from her shoulder, even despite the field bandages, told her than Carter had taken more than one bullet there.

A low whistle and a nudge to her ribs alerted her to the fact that Dr. Matthews had joined her.

“What’d I do to wind up with a broad like this on my operating table?” Matthews leered, stepping towards the table to inspect his patient closer.

“You’d hit on a corpse if it had a pair of nice legs” Angie retorted, rounding the table until she was facing the surgeon. She hastily unbuttoned the woman’s blouse and pushed the fabric away from her shoulder, giving them both a clear view of the nasty wound the captain had sustained.

Catching Matthews eyes drifting lower, Angie snapped her fingers in his face.

“Look Doc, we're here to patch her up, not admire her…” Angie waved her hand vaguely, “assets”.

She didn’t give Matthews a chance to respond, instead shoving a scalpel into his hand whilst she busied herself cleaning the wounds so that the surgeon could access them. Two bullets, which had passed clean through. That was a good sign. Despite the copious amount of blood - enough to knock the woman unconscious - it wasn’t as bad as it could have been. Captain Carter was a lucky gal, alright.

Angie found a suitable vein in the crook of the other woman’s arm and gently pushed the needle into the skin, injecting her with a dose of local anaesthetic. She knew all too well that patients who came in unconscious frequently woke in the middle of surgery, and it was enough of a shock to find a scalpel slicing into their flesh without having to feel the pain of it as well. With any luck Carter would stay out cold.

Thankfully Matthews was professional enough to drop the bullshit once he started work. Angie might’ve hated him for being a complete creep, but she had to admit that he was good at his job. Within moments he had removed a tiny fragment of a German bullet from one wound and was quickly starting on the other. Angie passed the surgeon the tools he requested, but otherwise the pair worked in silence, each concentrating on getting their important patient patched up and good as new.

She found herself watching the other woman's face more than she cared to admit. She looked incredibly peaceful for someone who was currently having bullet fragments removed from her body, dark eyelashes feathering against her still cold-flushed cheeks. There was still a few flecks of early November snow caught in her dark tresses. Angie wondered where she had been ferried in from, how long she had been fighting consciousness in the back of a jeep.

“We need to flip her,” Matthews announced suddenly, and Angie jerked her head up to look at him. “She was hit from behind, there might be another bullet there.”

Angie nodded and immediately threw back the curtain behind her to shout for assistance. The chaos had died down outside the cocoon of their operating “room”, and several free hands rushed to join them the moment they were called.

With hands placed on each side of their patient, at her shoulders, her hips and her legs, the assembled group of nurses set about flipping the woman onto her front. Slowly, and with special care being paid to her shoulder wound, they moved her. Angie pushed a mound of towels under her shoulder and guided her down, her free hand gently maneuvering the woman’s head into a comfortable position.

Breathing a quiet “thank you” to the team of nurses that slipped out through the curtains back to their posts, she and Matthews set back to work. Wiping away the excess blood from the wounds, Angie frowned. The surgeon was right. Though the bullets had passed through mercifully cleanly in two places, the captain hadn’t been so lucky the third time. A bullet had buried itself into the woman’s pale skin and come to a violent stop against her clavicle, shattering the bone.

Matthews frowned and bent closer, grasping tools wordlessly from Angie's hands.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm dankscully on tumblr, come say hi!


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oops, I forgot to post the art I did to go with this fic... it's now at the start of ch. 1 if yall missed it!!

Angie wasn’t sure how much time had passed when Matthews finally asked for sutures and a needle. Just as she pushed them into his hands, a quiet groan from their patient suddenly grabbed their attention.

“Knew this one was gonna wake up” Matthews grumbled, “I hope she doesn’t fuss.”

“Captain Carter?” Angie asked quietly, peering down at the woman on the operating table.

“Mhmm,” the woman responded, eyelashes fluttering momentarily before her eyes sluggishly opened. “Where…..”

Angie placed a cool hand against the other woman’s forehead before she could say any more. Carter’s eyes immediately found focus on Angie’s face, before she smiled with quiet understanding.

“We’re almost done, ma’am, just about to stitch you up” she offered quietly, “Sorry you gotta be awake for this bit, though”

“Thank you, nurse…..”

“Martinelli” Angie provided, smiling as she caught the woman’s accent. So Captain Carter was English. She didn’t realise there were any Brits stationed nearby, but troops of all kinds were always coming and going. Last month she’d patched up three Australians and a New Zealander. You met all kinds of people in war, and her Ma had been real excited to hear about her patients from far-flung parts of the world.

“Nurse Martinelli,” Carter finished, returning the smile briefly before attempting to glance behind her without moving, “By all means, don’t let me stop you,” she called to Matthews.

The surgeon shot Angie a glance before shrugging and setting to work on the stitches.

 

 

Captain Carter was fully awake and rather talkative by the time Matthews had finished sewing up the wounds on both sides of her shoulder. In fact, despite being unconscious due to blood loss barely twenty minutes earlier, it seemed like the woman was more than keen to get back to wherever it was she had been stationed, straight back to the front lines to fight.

Once the final bandage was pinned into place at her shoulder, the captain pulled her blouse closed and buttoned it quickly, motioning towards her coat on the floor. Angie grasped it but did not hand it to her immediately.

“I’m gonna take you to your bed when you’re ready, Captain Carter,” Angie spoke softly. She wasn’t convinced that if she handed the woman her coat she wouldn’t just take off out of the medical tent and disappear into the sunset.

As if sensing her misgivings, the other woman dropped her hand back to her side, and offered a gentle smile.

“Yes, of course,” she said simply, “Lead the way”.

 

 

Director Andrews caught her arm as she crossed the medical tent with the English woman in tow, halting her in her tracks.

“Captain Carter is to have her own tent, Martinelli. And you will stay with her tonight, should she need anything.”

Both Angie and her patient started speaking at once.

“That really won’t be necessary”, the other woman interjected, speaking over Angie’s hurried agreement to Andrews’ demands. “I’m perfectly happy to have a bed in here, and I’d hate to be an imposition on miss Martinelli”.

But Andrews was already shaking her head, leading the pair out of the medical tent. The sun was already setting and Angie realised quite suddenly just how tired she really was. Andrews pointed to a tent that had been set up nearby, already lit from the inside with a lantern. It looked rather inviting, and Angie secretly felt awful glad that she’d been chosen for this particular assignment. A bit of peace and quiet away from the nurses bunks, and they couldn’t drag her into surgery in the middle of the night if she was supposed to be keeping an eye on an _important patient_ , could they?

Andrews disappeared back into the tent, and Carter sighed reluctantly.

“I do outrank her,” the other woman mumbled, “is she always this pig-headed?”

For the first time in weeks, Angie genuinely laughed.

 

 

As the two women entered the tent that had been set up as Captain Carter's makeshift hospital room, Angie felt her momentary excitement give way to dismay. Aside from the other woman’s bed and a small side table, the only other piece of furniture inside was a rather hard-looking wooden chair.

“Do they expect me to sleep on that?” Angie complained, putting her hand on the back of the chair and glaring at it with disapproval, “No cot or nothin’!”

“I suspect they expected you to stay awake and watch over me,” the English woman responded, glancing around the room. “Which is utterly ridiculous. How long ago did you last sleep?”

“Two days?” Angie shrugged and watched the other woman’s lips form a thin line of displeasure.

Without saying anything, the captain brushed past her and exited the tent. Angie stuck her head through the flaps after her.

“Where are you goin’? Andrews’ll flip her wig if I lose you!”

“Stay there, miss Martinelli,” Carter ordered, and Angie immediately felt she should comply. The woman certainly knew how to give a command. “I’ll only be a moment”.

 

 

True to her word, the English woman returned less than five minutes later, and with three men in tow carrying parts of a makeshift cot. They assembled it quickly under her watchful eye and Angie looked on, amazed. When they finished, each man saluted and disappeared from the tent without another word, one of them taking the offending chair with them as they left.

“Geez, English,” Angie said before she could stop herself, “Captain,” she corrected, “Captain Carter. Should I be saluting you?”

The other woman's face broke into a smile, and she barked a laugh. She shook her head gently, before extending a hand.

“Peggy,” she offered, grasping Angie’s hand in her own, “And don’t you dare salute, nurse Martinelli. I’m rather sick of it.”

“Angie,” the younger woman responded, unable to stop herself grinning as she shook Peggy’s hand.


	4. Chapter 4

Angie fell quickly into a deep sleep on her cot beside Peggy’s bed. It might have been the best sleep she’d ever had, truth be told. Not even the scratchy blankets or uncomfortable springs bothered her, nor did the November chill that crept in during the early hours of the morning. The last two exhausting, delirious days melted away as the sun began to rise on the horizon.

The warm orange glow that slipped through the flaps of the tent woke Angie gently, almost pleasantly. It was early, too early to think about getting dressed and rising, and far too early to worry about whether a squadron of casualties would keep her busy today. She had quickly learned that whatever good moments you could find out here in the mud and gore, you took ‘em.

Just as she was contemplating falling back asleep, she found she could smell something. It smelled _good_. It smelled like _breakfast_. Her face contorted into an expression of confusion before she even opened her eyes.

“Good morning, Angie” a gentle voice woke her. “I hope you slept well?”

She had momentarily forgotten her patient was in the other bed beside her and the voice startled her somewhat.

Glancing up, she found the other woman was perched on the edge of her bed, fully dressed and offering her a plate of still-hot breakfast. Angie took it from her hands gratefully, which earned her a genuine smile.

“Mornin’, English”, Angie replied, examining the food on her plate with an appreciative smile, “Wow, this is the good stuff. How’d you manage that?”

Peggy only offered her a wry smile and tapped the side of her nose by way of explanation.

“How’s your shoulder treating you? Did you sleep okay?” Angie continued as she began to shovel her breakfast into her mouth with gusto. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d had food that tasted this good. It certainly wasn’t the gruel they usually served, that’s for sure. If only all her patients thanked her this way.

“It’s rather painful, actually” Peggy responded honestly, “I’m afraid I didn’t get much sleep”.

Angie immediately downed her knife and fork, moving to put her plate aside.

“Oh, honey! I’m so sorry, let me get you-” Angie began, but was cut off by the other woman’s hand on her shoulder, stilling her.

“No, please, do finish your breakfast first,” Peggy gave the other woman’s shoulder a squeeze and smiled gently, “I will last another ten minutes.”

 

 

The pair finished their breakfast in relative silence, before Angie quickly slipped from the tent to procure painkillers and fresh bandages for Peggy’s shoulder.

When she returned, she found the other woman laying back against the pillow on her bed, with her blouse already unbuttoned and slipped over her injured shoulder. Her slender fingers were making light work of unravelling the blood-sodden dressing. Angie paused momentarily at the entrance of the tent, almost feeling that she should make her presence known. She saw men in all states of undress every day, why did this suddenly seem like an intrusion?

“I thought I would get a head start,” Peggy said, without looking up.

“Most of the boys would be out cold at the sight of that much blood, y’know,” Angie responded dryly, watching as the other woman finished unraveling the top layer of bandages, discarding them on the side table next to her.

“I’ve done this more than a few times, I’m afraid to say,” Peggy answered, stilling her hands.

Angie frowned as she rounded the bed, depositing her haul of antiseptic, fresh gauze and bandages onto the mattress next to her patient. Every new piece of information Peggy told her only served to make her seem more mysterious. Angie had a thousand questions - how did a gal like her become a captain? How come she was a Brit, but had a US uniform? How’d she earn that bullet to the shoulder? She hoped a couple of them might be answered while Peggy was recovering in her care, but she wouldn’t hold her breath.

Peggy was regarding her with a curious expression, brown eyes studying her. It made Angie feel slightly self-conscious as her hands set to work removing the remaining bandages and blood-soaked gauze from the other woman’s shoulder.

“What did you do before the war?” Peggy asked, as the nurse gently wiped her wounded shoulder clean.

“I was a waitress, back in New York,” Angie shrugged, “dunno who complained more, my customers at the diner, or the boys who come in here with limbs missin’ ”

This earned Angie a laugh, which quickly turned into a hiss of pain as the nurse rubbed antiseptic over the freshly-cleaned bullet wounds.

“Oh geez, sorry Peg!” Angie apologised quickly, using her free hand to rub the bare skin of the other woman’s neck to comfort her, “I shoulda warned you that might smart.”

“No, you’re quite alright,” Peggy responded, stiffening slightly at the unexpected touch.

Angie hastily removed her hand. She was used to treating young men who were easily distracted from the sting of rubbing alcohol by a tender touch, a small gesture of affection to keep their spirits up. It didn’t have to mean anything, it wasn’t a promise of anything more, but that didn’t seem to matter. It reminded the men of wives or sweethearts back home, or simply let them know that _somebody_ cared about them in the midst of this awful war, even if it was just the nurse changing their bandages.

“Tell me about your job,” Peggy urged gently, breaking the silence that had settled between them while Angie worked.

“You really wanna know? It was pretty crummy, to be honest,” the nurse met Peggy’s gaze, unfurling a new bandage as she spoke, “It was really just until I got my big break on Broadway, y’know?”

“I should’ve known you were an actress,” Peggy replied, the smile returning to her face.

“Not a very good one, judging by all the rejections I got,” Angie shrugged, “that’s why I’m over here. They needed more nurses, and well, I figured if I aint made it on Broadway, I could at least do something to help.”

“That’s very brave of you, Angie,” Peggy responded, her tone completely genuine.

Angie shook her head, feeling slightly taken aback. Not many people gave her or the other nurses much credit. It didn’t feel right to be called _brave_. Not after what she’d seen. The soldiers who came into the medical tent with all manner of nasty wounds, they were brave. All she did was stitch ‘em up and send them on their way. She didn’t dodge machine gun fire, or shells, or grenades, or have to sleep in muddy trenches or freezing foxholes. Angie was pretty sure Peggy had most likely done all of these things. And here she was telling her she was brave.

“You gonna tell me how you got these, then?” Angie asked, gesturing to the to the wounds she was wrapping tightly with bandages, “You got ambushed, right? Soldiers who get bullets in the back always get ‘em in an ambush. Or if they’re turnin’ tail to run.”

Angie made a face and Peggy smiled at the nurse’s eagerness, but shook her head in response.

“I’m afraid I can’t tell you exactly what happened,” she replied, “But I certainly wasn’t running away”.

“Yeah, didn’t think you were the kind,” Angie responded, her tone only slightly teasing as she continued, “Come on, English, I bet you’ve got some good stories.”  
  
By this point the nurse had finished dressing her patient’s wounds and was pinning the last of the bandages in place, smoothing them down lightly as she went.

“Perhaps later?” Peggy offered.

“You’re right,” Angie nodded as she slid herself from the side of Peggy’s bed, the springs creaking as she moved. “I better make sure the other poor mooks in there” she indicated with a jerk of her thumb towards the medical tent “survived the night.”

 


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks everyone for all your kind comments, I'm so glad you're all enjoying the story so far!!

This was gonna be good.

Angie knew the _best_ way to say thank you to someone was with alcohol and something sickening sweet. She knew where to find the first, but the second might be a little more trouble. There had to be a bit of cake, a tin of berries, _something_ in the storeroom with a some sugar in it.

Fumbling in the dark of the large pantry, only illuminated by the faint light of a lantern further down the corridor towards the mess hall, Angie’s hands came upon a small box. Pulling it open, she frowned at the contents. D-Rations. The label read ‘chocolate bar’ but Angie knew better. She’d never forget the first (and last) time she made the mistake of eating one of those. Shoving the box back where she found it, a small tin on a higher shelf caught her eye.

It took a bit of effort, but Angie finally secured her prize firmly in her grasp and wasted no time in prying the lid open. Jackpot. It was small, but it _was_ a fruitcake and that wasn’t nothin’.

All she needed now was some booze, and she’d be Peggy’s best pal in no time.

 

 

Angie pushed open the flaps of the tent that night to find Peggy resting on her bed, a book open in one hand, and what appeared to be reports in the other.

Digging the bottle of whiskey and the tin of cake from their hiding place - stuffed down Angie’s uniform in the most obvious way possible - she shook them victoriously.

“I got whiskey and cake, wanna see which tastes worse?” Angie announced.

Without waiting for an invitation, she strode the length of the tent to Peggy’s bed and launched herself onto it. The springs of the mattress creaked loudly in protest as the nurse settled at one end, next to the other woman’s legs.

Peggy offered the younger woman a wry smile, before snapping the book and the reports shut and discarding them on the side table. Angie was already unscrewing the top of the alcohol and making herself comfortable at the foot of the bed.

Taking a deep drink of the liquor, Angie almost immediately pulled back and made a disgusted face.

“Geez, that tastes worse than my cousin Vinny’s bathtub moonshine!” Angie balked, feigning retching while simultaneously offering the bottle to Peggy. “But beggars can’t be choosers, right?”

“I suppose not” Peggy agreed, taking the bottle from Angie's grasp, “There is a war on, after all.”

The English woman tentatively took a sip of the liquor and her expression immediately turned sour. Angie couldn’t stop herself from laughing.

“I can’t promise the cake will be much better,” she apologised as she pried the lid of the tin open with nimble fingers. “But hey, it looks like it’s sweet, and between that and the booze we won’t have much trouble forgetting our woes, right English?”

“Candy is dandy, but liquor is quicker” Peggy agreed.

 

 

 

The fruitcake was stale but surprisingly sweet, and the taste of the whiskey didn’t improve with time. It might not have been schnapps and cherry pie, but it did the job. Before long the pair lay head-to-toe on Peggy’s bed, each propped up with a pillow, the remainder of the cake discarded between them. Angie had one arm draped over the other woman’s legs, whilst her free hand moved expressively as she spoke.

“You ever see a chicken with its head cut off, English?” Angie asked conversationally, taking another sip from the half-drained bottle and not waiting for a response, “They run around in circles for about ten minutes after! My uncle Serge has this farm just outta New York, an’ his favourite thing is to gather round all the cousins, especially the little ‘uns, and show us where our food comes from. Geez, my cousin Frankie still teases me about the first time I saw it! Apparently the look on my face was good enough to still bring up every time I see him!”

Peggy laughed, shaking her head and grasping the bottle as Angie passed it back.

“Are any of your cousins serving?” Peggy asked, with a gentle tone that made Angie smile.

“Yeah, Frankie’s somewhere here in France as well. He’s not allowed to say where, though,” she shrugged and continued, “My two brothers are pilots, one’s in England tryin’ to take out u-boats but it sounds like spends more time shootin’ at seagulls.”

“I met a few of the anti-submarine squadrons back in England, in ‘42,” Peggy replied, a sly smile tugging at her lips, “Apparently, whoever sunk the first u-boat was going to get a kiss from me. Pity they didn’t manage to down one until a week after I’d left.”

Angie laughed, turning the bottle of whiskey over in her hands. The drink seemed to be doing its job in prying a few stories out of the other woman, but she couldn’t help but feel that no amount of alcohol would loosen her lips completely.

But that didn’t really matter right now, because Angie was having more fun than she’d had in ages. This was about the closest thing to normal she was gonna get, the next best thing to a night out back home with a good pal.

Or a night out with a gal she was sweet on.

Drinking and dancing until the liquor really _hit_ , and then they’d be slipping out of the club or dancehall with hungry mouths and careless hands. Finding somewhere in the dark, an alleyway, hidden in the shadows as they fumbled with buttons and skirts, _desperate_. They’d weigh their keen desire with the risk of being caught and would ultimately make their way to whoever’s apartment was closest. They’d bump into walls and furniture and trip on rugs until they found the bed-

Angie realised she should stop her train of thought right there. But Peggy was beautiful. _Gorgeous_ , even. With her keen brown eyes, arched, expressive eyebrows and high cheekbones. The drink and the soft light only accentuated everything that Angie found achingly attractive. She was staring. She was drunk. _She had to stop._

_ _

“What about your other brother?” Peggy asked suddenly, startling Angie out of her woolgathering.

“Marco,” Angie nodded, clearing her throat, thoroughly relieved to have a distraction from her wandering mind, “I got a letter from him last week. He sure knows how to spin a story, even if it aint even half true,” Angie laughed, “You shoulda read it! He tells me that he and his pal Jimmy are flying over the Alps, and there’s all this cloud cover, right? So suddenly outta nowhere a whole squadron of Nazi planes appear, and fly right by ‘em. They’re sitting there in shock, of course, an’ his buddy says “You think they saw us?””

Angie paused to laugh again, “Then of course, the whole band of Nazi’s turn around and chase ‘em all the way back to the air base! He says by the time they landed, the plane was so full of bullet holes it just about falls apart on ‘em, and nobody can believe they both made it back in one piece.”

Peggy laughs and shoots Angie a brilliant smile, shaking her head in disbelief.

“What a load of bunk, right?” the nurse scoffs, taking another drink, “I’m still worried about him, though. He was always getting himself into trouble when we were growin’ up.”

Unexpectedly, Peggy placed a hand on Angie’s calf, rubbing it gently to soothe her. Angie’s eyes immediately shot up to meet the other woman’s, but she found that Peggy’s attention was elsewhere.

“I hope they all make it home, Angie”, the English woman responded quietly, and Angie thought she detected a trace of melancholy in her voice.

She must have lost someone. The thought made her blood run cold. Angie knew she’d been lucky - extremely lucky - her brothers and cousin were all still alive. Sitting up, Angie leaned over and captured Peggy’s hand with her own. This caught the other woman's attention and she turned her head, meeting Angie’s sympathetic gaze.

“Do you wanna talk about it, honey?” Angie asked quietly. She knew not everyone wanted to open up about their loss - she’d met plenty of soldiers who’d lost friends and brothers who would rather keep their feelings to themselves. Besides, she didn’t know how fresh or deep the wound was. Was it family, a friend, a boyfriend? Angie found herself absently squeezing the other woman’s hand, running her thumb gently over knuckles.

Peggy was silent for a long while, allowing herself the comfort of the nurses gentle touch.

“Perhaps it’s time for bed,” Peggy finally responded softly, after a few minutes of silence. She gently disentangled their hands, “Before this knocks us out cold” she shook the near-empty bottle of whiskey.

“You’re probably right,” Angie agreed, feigning a smile and slipping her tired legs from the bed.

 

Though she hadn’t been asked, the nurse thought she ought to stay with her patient, and opted to sleep on the cot on the floor again, instead of her own bunk. Besides, it was quieter here with nobody coming and going at all hours of the night. Of course, she would be lying if she said it had nothing to do with the affection she had begun to feel for the other woman. Those warm eyes, full, painted lips, the gentle smiles...

_You’re drunk_ , Angie repeated to herself, pulling the scratchy woolen blanket over head as if trying to hide from her own intrusive thoughts. _Don’t go down this path, honey._

Angie suspected it might already be too late.

_Oh no._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn't get around to finishing the art for this chapter, but I hope yall like the sketch I threw in anyway!
> 
> Also, all of Angie's stories are true and borrowed from my family. Uncle Serge is my mum's Italian uncle, and yes, he took great delight in showing the kids where their chicken dinner came from. Angie's brother (the anti-submarine pilot) is based on my late step-dad who served in WWII - he piloted one of the first Australian crews to sink a german u-boat! The story about escaping an entire squadron of Nazi planes is also, incredibly, 100% true. It happened to a couple of my step-dads RAAF buddies, and amazingly the pair of them both made it out alive and survived well into their 80s to tell that story to me!


	6. Chapter 6

Angie woke feeling like death warmed over.

She was still wearing her clothes from the night previously, and one leg was draped less-than-gracefully over the edge of the cot. Maybe stale cake and bad whiskey hadn’t been her brightest idea, after all.

She groaned and lifted her head from the pillow, noting with some relief that the light spilling through the gaps in the tent was still the warm orange of dawn. With a great deal of effort, she propped herself up on one elbow to see whether her patient was still asleep.

To her surprise, Peggy was not in her bed.

Frowning, Angie scrambled to her feet and hastily threw on the stockings and shoes she had discarded the night before, then made her way to the opening of the tent. Poking her head outside gingerly, she noted that the camp was still quiet, the only signs of life being sleepy soldiers still on patrol.

“Peggy!” She stage-whispered, glancing in both directions as she awaited a response.

Nothing.

“Peg!” Angie tried again.

Receiving no reply, she darted back inside the tent only briefly to grab her drab-olive military-issue sweater ( _a real head-turner_ she’d joked the first time she’d seen herself in the mirror in it), before rushing back out. She shivered slightly as the cold morning air hit her face, and noted that there was a light frost on the ground. Winter wasn’t going to be kind this year, she suspected.

Pulling her sweater closer to her, she set off on her search.

 

 

It took Angie good ten minutes to find her.

Trudging up the steep incline of the hill on the outskirts of the camp, she immediately recognised Peggy’s hourglass silhouette against the warm orange of the sky. She could just make out the steam rising from the English woman’s mug of coffee as she drew closer.

“Good morning, Angie,” Peggy said, a moment before turning her head and offering a gentle smile.

“How’d you know it was me?” the nurse asked, slightly taken aback, as she reached the other woman’s side at the top of the hill.

“Your perfume,” Peggy replied, “It’s still on your clothes from last night.”

Angie wrinkled her nose.

"Great to know people can smell me coming,” the nurse deadpanned.

Peggy ducked her head, laughing. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it like-”

“Don’t worry about it, English” Angie cut in, smiling “It aint exactly subtle. I wouldn’t be surprised if this stuff alerted the Germans a mile away.”

Peggy smiled into her coffee as she took another sip.

Angie sighed and drew her sweater closer. She couldn’t read Peggy. The gal was a real puzzle. Nobody trudged their way up a hill to the edge of camp first thing in the morning just to have their coffee. Whatever had struck a nerve with her the night before was clearly still on her mind. Angie wanted to reach out, to comfort her, to let her know she wasn’t alone. She just didn’t know how.

She took a deep breath of the morning air. She still wasn’t quite used to how _fresh_ it was - the crisp, earthy smell of the woods. It was definitely a change from the smog of the city back home. The view from where they stood was beautiful - from the top of the hill the wide expanse of trees stretched out before them, half-hidden in the morning fog.

It was gorgeous, but it wasn’t _home_. She missed New York bitterly. She missed her family, her little sisters and big brothers, she missed her friends, she missed the old lady in the apartment next to hers that always asked about her auditions. She even missed the jerks that complained about their meals at the Automat. It seemed like such a long time ago, but it had barely even been a year. And who knew how long this war would drag on for.

Angie felt the tears begin to prick at her eyes. She took a deep breath, willing herself not to start crying. Not here. Not in front of Peggy.

“How about we get those bandages changed, soldier?” the nurse asked, desperate for a distraction to stop the overwhelming sadness that was threatening to escape her.

Peggy simply nodded in agreement.

 

 

The moment the pair set foot back in the centre of camp, Director Andrews rushed passed them, grasping Angie by the arm as she went and dragging her in the direction of the medical tent.

“Martinelli!” Andrews snapped, “You’re needed in surgery immediately! Scrub up!”

“I was just about to change Peg- uh, Captain Carter’s - dressing, ma’am,” Angie started, already being pulled away from the other woman.

“No time!” the director barked in response.

“It’s alright, I can manage on my own,” Peggy replied, then quickly added in a barely audible voice, “Thank you, Angie. For last night.”

Angie craned her neck to look back, catching the other woman’s smile just before she turned and disappeared into the sudden crown of nurses who were rushing towards the waiting ambulances.

 

 

The next few hours were nauseating, messy _hell_.

The casualties were from a town to the north that had been suddenly, violently, taken in the hour before dawn. The allied troops had been outnumbered and outgunned and _surprised_. Angie doubted a single man had come away unharmed, and most were close to death by the time they made it to the operating table.

By the time Angie was afforded a break, the sun had begun to set.

She was hungry, and tired and her headache had never left. Slumping down onto the ground against the side of the canvas medical tent, Angie burrowed her head in her hands. All she wanted was a hot shower and a good meal, neither of which she was going to get in her short break.

“Angie?”

At the sound of her name, she immediately jerked her head upwards. She was rather shocked to see Peggy standing over her, dressed smartly in her full uniform. Angie managed a weary smile.

“Hey, English.”

“How are you coping?” Peggy asked, settling herself on a crate next to Angie.

“I’m beat,” Angie replied, “but we did set a new record for most amputations in a day, so that’s something, right?”

The other woman offered her a sympathetic smile and placed a hand on her shoulder for a moment.

“So, what’s with the fancy get-up?” Angie asked after a few minutes of comfortable silence, waving her hand to indicate Peggy’s dress uniform.

“I had a visit from Colonel Phillips,” Peggy replied, adjusting a pin on her lapel absently.

Angie waited for more of an explanation, raising her eyebrows at the English woman next to her.

“I’m afraid I can’t tell you any more than that,” Peggy responded, smiling apologetically, “Loose lips sink ships, as they say.”

Angie rolled her eyes dramatically, which earned her a laugh from the other woman.

“I should get back,” the nurse said finally, letting out a deep sigh. “I don’t want any of those fellas to die just because I was out here flappin’ my gums.”

With a great deal of effort and groaning, she slowly dragged herself upright, every bone in her body aching.

“I’ll make sure you get a hot meal,” Peggy said, watching as Angie rose to her feet, “You must be starving.”

Angie could have cried. Instead, she put on her bravest smile and grasped Peggy’s hand, holding it tight.

“Thanks, Peg,” she replied, letting the other woman’s hand free with one final squeeze, “Did I ever tell you you’re my best patient?”

With a wink, she turned on her heel and headed back towards the entrance of the medical tent. She heard Peggy’s laugh behind her.

“Oh, and I have a surprise for you!”, Peggy called after her, cryptically, “I have a feeling you’ll enjoy it.”

Angie glanced back over her shoulder, shooting the other woman and confused look, before she slipped inside the canvas tent.

 


	7. Chapter 7

The rain had already started by the time Angie was finally granted permission to catch a few hours of sleep. It was heavy - torrential, in fact - and only served to weigh her spirits down even more. She had stared absently at her own exhausted face in the mirror as she scrubbed the dried blood from under her fingernails and wondered what on earth she was doing in this miserable place. The rain always made her gloomy, even before the war, before she had any real troubles in her life.

The walk from the medical tent to Peggy’s makeshift hospital room was a short one, but she was thoroughly drenched by the time she slipped inside. Though they hadn’t discussed it, there seemed to be a silent agreement that Angie should continue sleeping on the cot beside her patients bed. In the few short days that they had known each other, it had become clear that Peggy was more than capable of looking after herself - in fact, Angie suspected that the woman probably could have removed the bullets from her own shoulder if it had really come to it. But she could also see her fragility, despite Peggy’s best efforts to conceal it. A small, drunken slip of her armour. Angie had seen it - that faraway look in the other woman’s eyes had told her everything.

She knew she might not discover the cause. Peggy seemed to be very adept at dodging her questions and cutting conversations short. Besides, her Ma always told her not to pry.

She found it hard not to idly watch Peggy as she slept soundly under the covers in her bed. Her expression was soft, peaceful. The novel she had been reading still lay clutched in her hand. Angie wondered absently whether the other woman had waited up for her, and couldn’t help the small smile that crept onto her lips.

With a quiet sigh, Angie pulled her sodden sweater over her head and discarded it next to her cot, before sinking down into the welcoming pile of blankets.

Sleep came to her easily that night.

 

 

 

Angie suspected it had only been a couple of hours before she was rudely awakened by someone hissing her name into her ear and shaking her violently.

“Martinelli!” the voice said again, obviously trying to be quiet but still get her attention, “We got more casualties, we need all hands on deck.”

Angie groaned. It wasn’t even light outside yet - there was probably still at least another hour before dawn. It was still pouring with rain. The nurse who had woken her offered her an apologetic smile.

“Okay, let me get dressed,” she replied reluctantly.

The nurse nodded her thanks and slipped out of the tent.

Angie rolled over - Peggy was still asleep in her own bed, breathing deeply and calmly, one arm tucked under her head. It was going to be another long, tiring day, and Angie found herself wishing for even just a few minutes of the other woman’s company before she was dragged back to the chaos of the medical tent. A nice hot breakfast, a cup of _good_ coffee. A warm smile. Kind words of encouragement. Angie hadn’t even noticed she was missing those things so _terribly_ until Peggy offered them so generously, without asking for anything in return.

She knew getting so attached was probably an awful idea. Once the English woman’s wounds had healed suitably, she would be gone. She would disappear from Angie’s life as quickly as she had come into it.

She felt the sting in her heart. _You’re going to lose her, and there’s nothing you can do about it._

Angie shut her eyes tight, trying to force the thought away, but it had paralysed her. Peggy Carter would have to leave. Kind, beautiful Peggy Carter would have to go back to the mud and the trenches and the Nazi’s. Peggy Carter would probably be a casualty.

She felt sick. Breathing deeply, she willed herself to imagine the Automat. Of Peggy settling into a booth and Angie bringing her a cup of tea and a slice of pie. When the war ended and they were safe.

She focused on that thought. One day - whenever they got out of this hell-hole - should would make sure she found Peggy, alive and well. They would sit on the bed in Angie’s apartment and drink _good_ booze, and maybe she’d steal some pie from the diner. They would laugh together and not think about who the war stole from them.

They were both going to survive this.

 

 

By lunch time, Angie found herself standing outside the medical tent, the rain still pouring down. She had tried to hold back the sobs - she really had. But now they were coming thick and fast, her body shaking with the exertion. The rain joined her tears as they streamed down her face.

He had been so young. He’d grasped Angie’s hand and asked for his mother, then told her he’d lied about his age to enlist. He was only sixteen. Just a boy. He held tight to Angie’s hand, and she’d stroked his hair comfortingly until the end. He kept asking for his mother, right up until the last moment. She whispered gently that his mother was here, right here, right beside him. He’d nodded. Angie hoped he’d found peace in her lie.

She lost patients more often than she cared to think about, but it hurt all the more when they were so young and in so much distress. It was so unnecessary, all this death. It was so cruel and pointless.

Angie choked back another wave of sobs, feeling the cold rain seeping through her uniform and clinging to her hair. She needed to shower. She needed to sleep. She needed a friend.

 

 

 

After Angie had washed the blood and the rain and the tears off in the communal shower, she began to feel close to human again.

The rain was still beating down hard, the ground a muddy quagmire. The nurse frowned as she pulled her boots on - she didn’t feel like getting dirty again after she’d just spent so much time and effort finally getting clean.

It took her a few minutes, but she eventually found a spare poncho hidden away amongst the nurses bunks. Pulling it over her head, she thought she probably looked like a complete idiot. But at least she would stay dry.

She stood by the entrance for a moment, hesitant. Then she braced herself, pulled the hood of the poncho over her light brown curls, _and ran for it_.

It only took her a few moments to cross the camp at a dash, pulling the waterproof material close to her as she tried not to lose her footing in the slippery bog. She practically threw herself into the dry sanctuary of Peggy’s tent, immediately starting to pull dripping poncho off over her head the second she entered.

“You won’t believe the day I’ve had, Peg,” Angie said, struggling to disentangle herself from the wet garment, “I wouldn’t mind the rest of that awful whiskey if there’s still some left.”

She finally freed herself from the wet poncho and glanced in the direction of Peggy’s bed, where she had expected the other woman to be.

Glancing around, Angie realised she was alone. She frowned. _Great_. All she wanted was a little company, someone who could take her mind off the events of the day. Someone to make her forget about the young soldier who died in her arms.

With a defeated sigh, Angie threw herself onto her cot and nestled into the blankets. It was only mid-afternoon, but she was exhausted.

She fell asleep before she had time to reflect on the day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promise it's gonna be less sad after this! Promise!


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When you get to it, I recommend listening to the song that's playing as you're reading. It'll make your experience 100% better!!

Gentle notes of music woke her. It was quiet, but the sound of jazz fighting to be heard over static was unmistakable. Angie opened her eyes - it wasn’t quite dark, but the sun had definitely begun to set. The rain had still not let up. She rolled over, glancing up to see Peggy laying back on her bed, surrounded by files and a pencil between her teeth. Her brows were furrowed in concentration as she peered at the document she clutched in her hands.

Angie pulled herself up, and the movement immediately caught the other woman's attention. Peggy smiled around the pencil in her mouth, which looked both terribly silly and incredibly endearing. Angie couldn’t help returning the smile.

“Do you like my surprise?” the English woman asked, after removing the pencil from between her teeth. She inclined her head towards a small wireless radio that sat on the table beside her bed. The source of the music.

“I don’t know how you do it, English” Angie responded, amazed. “Who’d you hafta --”

Peggy quickly cut her off, “Let’s just say that I was owed a favour,” she answered simply.

Angie shrugged, clambering from her cot onto Peggy’s bed. The other woman drew her legs up to give the nurse some room.

“Sorry I was outta here this morning before you woke up,” Angie apologised, idly picking at the olive green blanket, “I’m a bit of a lousy nurse, huh? Leaving you to change your own bandages and all.”

“Of course not, Angie,” Peggy replied, rather more serious than Angie expected, “I’m more than capable of looking after myself while you’re off saving lives.”

Peggy had only meant it as playful banter, of course, but it struck Angie’s still-raw nerves. Her face fell, and she glanced away. The loss was still a fresh wound, and though the other woman could not have realised the implication of her words, it _hurt_. She was supposed to be saving lives. Not watching as too-young men died, clutching her hand as a last comfort.

The other woman sat up suddenly - she had already read Angie’s sudden change of demeanor. The nurse tried to stop the tears, but it was no use. They stung her eyes and she blinked them back rapidly, fighting even as they slid down her face.

“Oh, Angie, darling,” Peggy said, sympathetically grasping the younger woman’s hand, “I’m sorry. What happened?”

“He was real young, Peg,” Angie responded, choking back the sobs that were already starting, “All he wanted was his Ma, an’ he wouldn’t let go of my hand until the very end. There was nothin’ I could do for him. Nothin’.”

“I’m so sorry”, Peggy responded quietly, as she moved closer, closing the distance between them. She wrapped her arms around Angie’s small frame and drew her into a consoling hug. Angie burrowed her head into the other woman’s shoulder and let herself sob, her arms snaking around Peggy’s waist. She felt the older woman’s hands brush gently through her hair before they fell lower to draw comforting circles on her back. Angie breathed in deeply, taking in the lightly-perfumed scent of Peggy’s linen shirt, the warm, earthy smell of her skin. The other woman held her tight, anchoring her.

They stayed that way for several minutes, rocking gently back and forth in each other’s embrace, until Angie’s sobs had died away and her eyes had fallen closed. Peggy pulled away slowly, brushing a lock of stray hair away from Angie’s face and tucking it behind her ear. Her hand hovered there a moment. Their eyes met, fixed on each others.

Suddenly Peggy’s hand dropped back into her lap and she broke eye contact, the moment lost.

“You wanna turn the music up an’ we can finish that bottle of whiskey?” Angie asked, laughing as she wiped the remaining tears from her eyes.

Peggy threw her a smile, immediately uncrossing her legs and slipping off the bed without another word. She turned the dial up on the wireless radio and retrieved the half-empty bottle of godawful whiskey from the drawer of the side table. The sound of big band music filled their small tent as Peggy settled herself back on the bed, offering the bottle to Angie.

“I think you deserve the first drink,” the older woman said, shaking the alcohol lightly in her direction.

Angie smiled gratefully, grasped the bottle and drank deeply. She immediately made a disgusted face and passed it back.

“Still doesn’t taste any better, but thanks.”

Peggy laughed gently.

 

 

An hour later and the bottle was finished.

The pair sat close together, legs pressed lightly against one another. They had talked about idle topics in an effort to forget the grim day, nothing heavy to drag Angie back into a malaise.

As they fell into a comfortable silence, the beginning notes of Nat King Cole’s _Straighten Up And Fly Right_ drifted from the radio. Suddenly, Angie jumped up, sliding off the bed. She thrust her hand towards Peggy.

“You wanna dance, Peg?” she asked, already grasping the other woman’s hand in her own.

Peggy hesitated. Angie noticed the way the other woman’s face fell for just a moment - just a second before she brightened again. She opened her mouth to apologise, to tell her she was sorry for being inappropriate, but the other woman suddenly returned her grasp.

Peggy pulled herself up and grasped Angie around the waist, a smile creeping onto her lips.

Angie placed her hand on Peggy’s shoulder and they began to move easily with the beat, swinging back and forth. Angie was mildly surprised at how good a dancer the other woman was, though she really shouldn’t have been - Peggy was probably very good at just about everything.

The English woman laughed softly as she twirled Angie once, all trace of the momentary hesitation lost from her face. Angie grinned broadly, making over-exaggerated movements with the hand that clutched the other woman’s. Swinging her hips to the beat, she sang loudly along with the chorus. For the first time in _who knows how long_ , Angie was genuinely enjoying herself. How long had it been since she’d last danced? And danced with another woman, at that?

The pair turned around the room several times before the song came to an end. The last notes of the song died in the air but neither woman had let go of the other, both still smiling at their own foolishness and the absurdity of the situation. Still clutching each other, the much slower opening notes of the next song began to play. Neither of them had quite noticed until Ella Fitzgerald’s voice cut through the silence.

Peggy’s face fell again. The song was _Making Believe_ , Angie had recognised it the second she heard that powerful, melancholy voice. It seemed to trigger something in Peggy - the English woman hastily untangled herself from Angie’s grasp and took several steps back, before dropping back down onto her bed. Her expression was grim, thoughtful.

“Peg?” Angie asked tentatively, stepping forward, “You alright?”

Peggy was clearly trying to make her expression lighter, but it wasn’t working. The pair remained in silence for a few moments while the radio sung forlornly in the quiet room.

“You lost someone, didn’t you?” Angie asked gently, moving to sit beside the other woman.

Peggy remained silent for a long while, head turned away from the nurse, hands idly playing with the hem of her white shirt.

“His name was Steve,” Peggy finally said, very quietly, “We had-” she paused, blinking back her tears, “We had radio contact, just before his plane went down. He promised me a dance. And then he was gone.”

Angie couldn’t respond. For possibly the first time, she had no idea what to say. Instead, she reach over and grasped the other woman's hand.

"I’m sorry, honey,” Angie said simply, and the two women sat in silence until the song ended.

“You remind me of him, you know,” Peggy said softly, after a long while, “His tenacity, his spirit. He would have liked you, very much.”

Peggy held Angie’s gaze intently, deep brown eyes scrutinizing her. Angie felt her breath hitch, catching in her throat as the other woman studied her face. The look was imploring, searching - silently asking if they were both on the same page. If they’d both felt it.

Angie broke eye contact.

“That was over a year ago, now,” Peggy continued, with a sad smile, “I have to accept that he’s gone. I have to move on. I’m _allowed_ to move on.”

They sat in silence for several long minutes, still tightly clasping each others hands, Angie tracing her thumb gently over the other woman’s knuckles. A French voice crackled through the static, probably reporting the news, but Angie didn’t speak a word of the language. Background noise.

Angie began to wonder who was going to make the first move, but her musing was quickly cut short by the first notes of _White Cliffs Of Dover_ drifting from the wireless on the bedside table.

“I can’t stand this song,” Peggy announced as she slipped from the bed, “It’s far too sentimental.”

Angie assumed she was getting up to switch the radio off, but instead the other woman stopped in front of her and offered her hand. She took it tentatively and felt herself pulled up from the bed gently. Peggy pulled her closer, slipping her free arm around the nurses waist, pressing their bodies together. Angie felt her heart skip several beats.

“I didn’t know whether I would want to...” Peggy paused, faltering slightly, “dance again. I thought I would only find the right partner once.”

Her warm brown eyes were again searching Angie’s, gaze dropping slightly to her lips before darting up again.

“I think I may have been mistaken, Angie,” Peggy breathed, her face excruciatingly close.

As Vera Lynn crooned in the background, Angie felt herself inching closer, eyes fixed on the other woman’s full, red lips. Suddenly Peggy dipped her head, their noses brushed for an instant before those lips were on her. It was a slow, gentle kiss, as the pair swayed to the music, lost in each others embrace.

Peggy pulled back first, agonizingly slowly, breaking the kiss. Neither woman moved to leave each others grasp. Instead they stood in silence, wrapped around each other.

“Wow,” Angie breathed, finally.

The other woman laughed softly, pressing their foreheads together momentarily, before she dipped down for another light kiss.

“It’s rather cliche for a soldier to fall for their nurse, isn’t it?” Peggy said after a while, smiling against Angie’s lips.

“I’ve heard it’s a perk of the job,” Angie grinned back, before one hand reached up to caress the other woman’s cheek.

She pulled Peggy into a long, deep kiss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FINALLY, AM I RIGHT??


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to say THANK YOU SO MUCH to everyone reading and commenting and leaving kudos, i'm honestly blown away by everyone's kindness and enthusiasm!! i cant believe this is at nearly 2000 hits because i honestly didn't expect there to be much interest in this story. THANK YOUUU!!

Angie felt herself being guided backwards, Peggy’s strong arms around her waist, breath hot on her neck. Her heart was racing, the pounding so loud in her own ears that the whole outside world was drowned out completely. Her fingers fumbled with the buttons at the other woman's starchy white blouse and Angie wished her hands weren’t shaking _so damn much_. She pressed a messy kiss to the corner of Peggy’s lips, felt the English woman smile against her.

Peggy kissed hungrily - she kissed with the same determination and vivaciousness that she exhibited in every aspect of her life. She was a female captain in the US army, she’d had to fight tooth and nail for every ounce of respect she received. Angie felt it as those nimble hands expertly worked at the buttons of her uniform - Peggy Carter was a woman who was used to seizing every opportunity and battling to get what she wanted.

Suddenly Angie’s back hit the side table, bumping the wireless radio that was perched on top of it and nearly sending it toppling over. She stumbled, grasping the lapels on Peggy’s shirt for stability. The other woman immediately tightened her grasp, steadying her swaying body. Angie laughed, one hand tracing over Peggy’s lapel whilst the other slipped under her blouse, fingers mapping the outline of her collar bone. She found Peggy’s lips again, teeth grazing gently against the soft skin.

As she began to push the linen shirt from Peggy’s shoulders, her fingers felt the rough cotton bandages wrapped around her wound. Angie paused. Peggy sensed her hesitation and gently broke the kiss.

“Your shoulder,” Angie said, still catching her breath, “I don’t want you to pop a stitch, Pegs.”

A frown tugged at the corner of the other woman's mouth, but she nodded in agreement.

“You’re quite right,” Peggy responded reluctantly, drawing one hand up to stroke Angie’s cheek, “I’d rather not have to try and explain how that occurred.”

Angie hid her disappointment with a smile, fingers idly tracing over the cotton bandages at the other woman’s shoulder. Their bodies were still pressed together - she could smell the heady scent of her day-old perfume, feel the heat between them and the heaving of Peggy’s chest against her as it rose and fell. She felt intoxicated in more ways that one.

“Come to bed with me,” Peggy breathed against Angie’s cheek, causing a shiver to run down her spine, “Just to sleep. Until my shoulder is healed.”

Angie nodded silently, her nose brushing lightly against the other woman's.

“Besides,” Peggy continued, “Perhaps it would be better if we were a little more sober.”

“I’ve gotta say, I always have more fun when I’ve had a bit of drink in me,” Angie laughed, before she pressed her lips to the underside of the English woman’s jaw, trailing kisses along the bone. The other woman rewarded her with a low moan of satisfaction, her head tilting to allow Angie better access to her throat and neck.

“You really ought to stop that, Angie,” Peggy said with a low rumble of a laugh, “I’m finding it rather difficult to resist you,”

“That’s the point, English,” Angie whispered against her jawline.

Suddenly Peggy’s arms tightened around her and Angie felt herself being lifted. She barked a laugh of surprise into the other woman’s hair and instinctively wrapped her legs tightly around her waist. The ease with which the English woman hoisted her onto her hips was impressive - Angie’s small frame was admittedly rather light, but Peggy simply picked her up as if it were no effort at all.

Peggy walked them backwards until she reached the side of the bed, her brown eyes never once leaving Angie’s own blue ones. Once there, she gently lowered her precious cargo onto the mattress. The nurse pushed herself backwards until she reached the other woman’s pillow, and Peggy followed, arms and legs each side of Angie’s body. She lifted one hand and pushed a stray lock of Angie’s hair behind her ear, before dipping her head down for a gentle kiss.

Angie felt as if her whole body was on fire - Peggy’s thighs were either side of her, straddling her, teeth grazing her lips and one hand in her hair. Her skirt rucked up and exposing her garters. Lipstick smudged. She looked messy, beautiful. Angie _wanted_ her so very badly, wanted to explore every inch of her skin with nimble fingers and bruised lips. _Jesus c_ _hrist_.

“I’ll be gentle,” Angie begged against Peggy’s mouth, feeling the weight of the other woman as she settled herself against her. This was torture. “Please.”

Peggy looked hesitant, Angie could almost see the cogs in her mind turning, weighing up the possibility of injuring her shoulder against her own desire. After a moment, it became clear that the latter had won. Caution thrown to the wind, Peggy captured Angie’s lips in a hungry kiss, her hips pushing down to move against the nurses’. Angie moaned at the contact. It had been so long since she had felt the warmth of another body on hers.

Both women’s hands moved quickly, desperately - Angie’s found the soft expanse of flesh under Peggy’s skirt as she fumbled with her garters, whilst the other woman was setting to work undoing the belt on her nurses uniform with one hand. Their frantic kisses missed their target - landing on cheeks, chins - whilst their bodies collided. Peggy triumphantly removed the belt from Angie's waist and immediately moved onto the half-undone buttons at her chest. Her fingers worked quickly, in moments her blouse was undone and Peggy’s hand had slipped under the fabric.

Angie’s own hands frantically worked at the remaining buttons of Peggy’s shirt, most already popped open from her earlier attempts. Moving swiftly, desperately, it wasn’t long before they had divested each other of blouses and skirts. Peggy rocked back on her hips, still straddling Angie’s smaller form. The nurse’s gaze traveled over the other woman’s body appreciatively - mapping the curves of her thighs, hips, and settling on her full breasts. Angie couldn’t help staring - Peggy was more than a little blessed in that department.

“There’s no ‘look, don’t touch’ rule, you know,” Peggy said dryly, one eyebrow arching.

Angie responded with a sly smile, one hand moving to trace the contours of the other woman’s hourglass figure.

“You look like a pin-up girl, Pegs,” Angie murmured, her voice almost reverent.

Peggy simply offered her a devilish smile, her eyes half-lidded, dark curls of hair falling across her face. The gentle glow of the lamp light cast shadows in all the right places, highlighting the sharp angle of her jaw and her high cheekbones.

The more Angie studied the other woman, the more she realised that Peggy’s body wasn’t like a pin-up girl at all. She was imperfect, human. Angie’s shy fingers drew a line upwards from her hips, over the stretchmarks and scars and burns that painted her torso ( _who gave those to you, honey?_ ). Peggy was not soft flesh and a pretty smile. She was sinew and muscle below the surface, a strong battle-scarred woman. She was absolutely _stunning_.

She felt the weight of the other woman’s body shift on top of her as Peggy surged forward, capturing Angie in a fierce kiss. Their lips parted almost as quickly as they had met, and the English woman began to move down, nipping at her jaw, her neck, her collarbone. Angie wanted Peggy to devour every inch of her.

Angie watched the other woman trail kisses down between her breasts, her ribs, her hips, until she had slipped finally between her legs. It had been so very, _very_ long since she had given herself so completely to someone. So very long since she felt wanted, needed, _desired_.

So she breathed Peggy’s name like a prayer, over and over into the night.

 

 

 

Peggy lay back against her pillow, Angie’s head resting against her good shoulder, nose pressed into the crook of her neck. They were both satiated, drowsy. She traced light circles over the other woman’s collarbone, breathing in the salty, welcoming scent of Peggy’s sweat-slicked skin. She thought she might never stop smiling.

“We were ambushed,” Peggy said, suddenly, breaking Angie’s reverie. She tilted her head to glance up at the other woman as she continued, “You were right. That’s how I got shot.”

Angie propped herself up on one elbow, gaze travelling over Peggy’s calm features. She wondered briefly if that would be all the English woman would divulge - if it was either too painful to remember or too much of a secret to give away - but she pressed on after a small pause.

“We were all asleep, huddled together to keep warm - a fire would have blown our cover,” Peggy explained, “I suppose it was an hour or so before dawn. They managed to sneak up on our watchman and kill him before he had a chance to raise the alarm.”

Angie listened intently, drawing herself closer to the other woman as she spoke.

“Thankfully Pinky is an incredibly light sleeper and wakes up screaming bloody murder the second someone steps on him,” Peggy smirked.

Angie made a face. How on _earth_ was this a laughing matter?

“I believe I hit two or three of them before,” she tilted her head to indicate her injured shoulder, “That. I suppose I'm lucky they were such a terrible shot”

The nurse traced her fingers gently over the cotton bandages around Peggy’s shoulder, gaze dropping to inspect the area. Lucky. Angie suspected it was more than just luck - Peggy didn’t seem like the kinda gal that relied on anything but her own abilities - but she thought she should say a few prayers to whoever was keeping her soldier safe anyway.

“I didn’t realise how bad it was until we’d all made it out of there,” Peggy continued, “All I remember after that was Dugan - the big ape - practically _hurling_ me into the back of a truck. Then I woke up to your voice on the operating table.”

Angie smiled gently and ran her fingers across the other woman’s cheek, letting them slip down and over her lips. The gentle patter of rain against the canvas tent was lulling her to sleep.

“You’re a regular Captain America, Pegs,” Angie murmured, settling her head back against Peggy’s good shoulder and letting her eyes fall closed. She felt Peggy press a kiss to her hairline.

“No,” Peggy whispered so quietly Angie barely caught it, “I’ll never be as good as Steve.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I literally spent hours deciding whether or not to cockblock yall and have them just go to sleep.... but i figured you've all been so patient you deserve more than just a kiss!!


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry this one took a while, I've been a bit busy! hopefully I'll be a lil quicker with the next chapters!!

Angie woke to the perpetual sound of rain beating against the canvas tent, and the unfamiliar sensation of strong arms wrapped around her. Peggy’s slow breath caught in the stray hairs at the back of her neck, fingers tangled in the sheer fabric of her nightdress, legs intertwined with her own. There was a headache building in her temple from the bad whiskey, but it wasn’t enough to drive away the overwhelming sense of comfort and protection she felt.

She was not used to sleeping with women who _stayed_.

To be honest, she was not used to _staying_.

She was used to waking to find a cold empty space beside her, or slipping from warm covers just as the sun rose, sliding on stockings and sneaking out of apartment buildings. Peggy’s arm anchored her, held her easily in a warm embrace. The fact that they were both still here meant something. This wasn’t just a drunken encounter - or worse - a _mistake_. The way Peggy curled her body around Angie’s smaller frame and breathed deeply, contentedly, against the back of her neck told her everything. Peggy wanted her just as much as she wanted Peggy.

Maybe it was the dire situation of the war, maybe the other woman was just sad or lonely - either way, Peggy was holding onto her like a drowning sailor clinging to a life preserve. Angie curled her fingers around the other woman's, knotting them together tightly. She knew that, before long, she would have to leave the warmth of their cocoon to face the realities of the day. For now, though, she was going to enjoy it.

Peggy stirred gently behind her and Angie felt the other woman's thigh shift against her own. Her heartbeat quickened at the sensation, how beautifully _real_ it felt. She couldn’t help the smile that began to tug at the corners of her mouth, and before long she found herself grinning into the pillow.

How’d a girl like her manage to get _Captain_ Peggy Carter into bed with her in the first place, much less make her stay?

 

 

 

She woke again an hour or so later to Peggy tenderly pressing a line of kisses against her skin, between her shoulder blades. Angie felt her breath catch for a moment before she was able to speak.

“Mornin’, English”, she murmured quietly.

“Good morning, darling,” Peggy whispered into the back of her neck as she pressed another kiss there.

The other woman breathed in deeply, and Angie could tell Peggy was savouring the moment as much as she was. She never expected to find such contentment in the middle of this horrible war - it almost didn’t seem right that she felt so _happy_. Suddenly, Peggy’s hand slipped under the hem of her nightdress to grasp at her bare hip and she was immediately distracted her from her thoughts. The other woman gently maneuvered Angie until she was on her back, gazing up at those warm brown eyes.

Peggy studied her face for a moment, a pleased little smile on her lips. She looked a bit like the cat who got the cream. Then she pressed a tender kiss to Angie’s mouth, letting herself linger there for a long moment.

“We really ought to get up,” Peggy said reluctantly, one hand tracing over Angie’s bare shoulder.

“Come on, you _deserve_ a lie-in,” Angie complained, frowning, “I think you earned a least one when you took those bullets to the shoulder.”

Peggy laughed quietly against her neck. The hand that was caressing her shoulder slipped down under the sheets, briefly tracing over her breast until it came to rest at her ribcage.

“As tempting as that sounds,” Peggy responded, pulling Angie closer to her, “I fear people may come looking for us eventually.”

Angie knew it was true, of course. They were already playing with fire by sleeping together, and the longer they spent half-naked in each other's arms, the more likely it was that they would get caught. As much as she wished for one selfish, indulgent morning with a beautiful woman, it wasn’t worth the risk.

“You always gotta be right, don’t ya?” Angie teased, heaving a dramatic sigh.

“Yes, as a matter of fact,” Peggy shot back immediately, before Angie suddenly felt the fingers at her ribs move and she was being tickled.

Angie barked a laugh that was altogether too loud and tried to stifle herself by burying her face in the crook of the other woman’s neck. Her hands moved to try and retaliate, but Peggy was too quick - the other woman grabbed both of her wrists in one hand and held them tight.

“Hey!” Angie yelped, still laughing, “That’s not fair!”

“I don’t play fair, miss Martinelli,” Peggy whispered against her cheek, in a tone that was _far_ too suggestive at this hour of the morning.

“Come on, Pegs,” Angie whined, doing her best imitation of a sad puppy. Peggy rolled her eyes in response and let Angie’s wrists go.

“I’m going to get you back for that,” Angie said, shooting the other woman a cheeky smile as she reluctantly pulled herself up into a sitting position, stretching as she did so.

“Is that a promise?” Peggy asked, propping herself up onto one elbow, gaze unashamedly travelling up and down Angie’s lithe body in admiration. Angie couldn’t help her smile - her sheer cotton nightdress really left nothing to the imagination and it felt _good_ to be appreciated.

“Yep,” Angie whispered, leaning down to press a kiss to the other woman's lips, “Now, you gonna quit starin’ and get up, English?”

“No, thank you,” Peggy responded with a smug smile, “I’m enjoying the view.”

Angie rolled her eyes and swatted playfully at her arm. Reluctantly, she dragged herself from the comfort of the bed in order to find her uniform and get ready for the day. It was still early, and the ground underneath her feet was cold and dewy. She realised she should be thankful that at least the mud hadn’t started to encroach into their tent, but it probably wouldn't be too long before it started to become unpleasant.

She grasped her nurses uniform from the back of the chair where she had abandoned it the night earlier, silently thanking her drunk-self that she hadn’t simply thrown it on the ground. Crossing to the other side of the tent, she rummaged around in her battered duffel bag until she found clean underwear and a pair of _reasonably_ clean stockings.

Grasping the hem of her nightdress, Angie shimmied it up her body until she could pull it over her head. She paused a second, standing naked at the foot of the bed with the garment still clutched in one hand, and glanced over her shoulder at Peggy. Sure enough, the other woman still had her head propped up on one hand and was regarding her with a sly smile and a raised eyebrow. Those keen, brown eyes roamed all over her body, as if she was trying to memorise every curve, every freckle that marked her skin. Angie turned away, smiling.

She pulled on her bland underwear, then slipped her uniform over her head, tugging it down onto her body. Angie then returned to the side of the bed where she perched on the edge to slide on her stockings.

Peggy was still watching her every move, using her free hand to drag her fingers through her messy hair. It occurred to Angie that Peggy looked far less troubled now than she ever had in the short time they’d known each other, and she felt a warmth grow in her chest at the thought. More than anything, she wanted to ease whatever pain and hurt the other woman had been feeling.

Angie finished tugging her stockings on, and quickly slipped her feet into her black shoes. Then she twisted herself around to face Peggy, leaning in to capture her full lips in a gentle parting kiss.

“Since I can’t have a lie-in with my best gal, I better go save some lives, huh?” Angie murmured against the other woman's lips, before she finally pulled herself from the bed and departed.

 


	11. Chapter 11

The ward was far quieter than Angie had ever seen it - more men packed up and shipped back out to the front lines than came in injured that morning. It was so unusually slow that Angie found her mind wandering, inescapably drifting back to the previous night. Her body was set on autopilot whilst her mind replayed the scenes over and over - Peggy’s back arching underneath her, the peppering of kisses against her inner thigh, hearing her own name moaned reverently in the quiet night.

She found herself hovering over the bed she had just neatly made, hands clutching the pillow as she absently stuffed it into its clean case. A little shiver ran down Angie’s spine as she remembered the way Peggy had watched her this morning, that look in her eyes as her gaze traced over her bare body. She wanted to burn those memories deep into her mind so that she would never forget them. Peggy had already been here a week, and she was healing faster than expected. Her particular injury should put a soldier out of action for up to two months, but Angie knew everyone - including Peggy herself - was keen to get her back to the action.

Angie closed her eyes for a moment and drew in a deep breath. They had a couple more weeks together, at the most. Then Peggy would be gone. The best damn thing that had ever happened to her would walk out of that tent one day soon, and there was a very good chance neither of them would see each other again. Angie gave the pillow in her hands a firm whack and threw it forcefully onto the bed. Another nurse nearby glanced at her with a raised eyebrow.

 _Don’t dwell on it. Don’t._ If anyone was going to make it through this war in one piece, it was probably Peggy. Besides, they would have every single night together alone in their tent - she should be counting her blessings for that. Angie had Peggy all to herself, and she was going to make the most of it. That’s what you did in the middle of a war - take every scrap of happiness you find and hold on tight to it, savour every last second of it. If you find yourself curled up in bed with a beautiful woman you wrap your arms tight around her, breathe her in deeply and _enjoy it_. You don’t waste your precious time thinking about how it will inevitably end.

Angie absently smoothed the pillowcase that she had violently hurled onto the bed, and realised suddenly it was already lunch time. She could use a good meal and a cup of coffee.

 

Angie stepped out of the medical tent just in time to be caught in the spray of muddy water that launched up as the tires of an incoming ambulance hit a pothole directly in front of her. The nurse leaped back, throwing her arms up in an attempt to shield herself. It was no use though, her uniform was already soaked with dirty brown water.

“Hey, look where you’re goin’, pal!” Angie shouted after the vehicle. She caught a brief glimpse of the brown-haired woman driving the ambulance as it sped off, though she was already too far away to be heard. Angie huffed theatrically.

By some miracle the endless rain had stopped several hours ago, and a sliver of blue sky had begun to sneak through the dark clouds. It wasn’t exactly a sunny afternoon, but it sure beat the constant downpour. The entire camp had become a muddy quagmire in a matter of days and the break in the rain offered a glimmer of hope that it _just might_ dry out before winter really hit. It felt like a blessing.

Angie was glad for the sunshine and that it hadn’t been a particularly trying day, or her spirits might have been considerably dampened as well as her skirt. Really though, it hadn’t been the _worst_ thing that had ever ended up on her uniform. No, that award went to the poor young man who had managed to cover her dress in three different bodily fluids in the space of an hour. Surprisingly, he had survived. Her uniform, on the other hand, had not.

Wiping ineffectually at her skirt, Angie set off across the duckboards towards the mess tent. For once she was in time for lunch - no cold leftovers for her today. If fact, she might even have time to find a spare change of clothes. Working in a wet, muddy dress for the rest of the afternoon wasn’t Angie’s idea of a good time.

 

Twenty minutes later, in a clean uniform and full _for once_ with a hot meal, Angie set off back to the medical tent across the duckboards. As she carefully avoided the slippery mud that covered the wood beneath her feet, Angie spotted Peggy out of the corner of her eye. She was in full dress uniform, brass glinting in the sunlight. The sight made her heart stop for a moment - Peggy looked so official, so powerful, with her back ramrod straight and her head held high. It had been easy to forget that Peggy was a captain when she was sprawled naked beneath her. This was a firm reminder that Peggy had command and power - she had so much more to lose than Angie if they were found out.

Beside Peggy stood a man that looked very important, but from this distance she couldn’t make out his rank. She had never seen him at the camp, though perhaps she’d just been too busy to notice. Finally, there in front of them, was the petite mousey-haired ambulance driver that had nearly run her down. Angie frowned as she squinted at the group. Peggy was shaking hands with the smaller woman, smiling broadly. What was so damn special about a reckless ambulance driver that warranted this kind of welcoming committee?

Angie watched for a moment more before realising just how long she had been standing awkwardly in the middle of the path. She wasn’t likely to figure out what was going on from this far away and she really should get back to her patients. She could ask Peggy about it later, anyway.

With one final suspicious glance at the group, Angie finally shook her head and set off back to work.

  


The rest of the day dragged on as slowly as the morning had, and Angie was relieved when her shift finally ended and she was allowed to leave.

The sun was just beginning to set as she exited the medical tent, bathing the whole sodden, muddy camp in its warm orange light. It was definitely a pleasant change from the endless string of grey days and cloudy, starless nights. Angie struggled into her drab green pullover and set off towards the mess tent, eager for a nice warm dinner after a long, boring day.

Just as she began to head off, an arm suddenly linked around hers and she found someone else had joined her. Smiling brightly next to her was Peggy, still in her dress uniform, the warm orange sunlight caught in her immaculate curls. She beamed back and knocked her shoulder against the other woman jovially.

“I was thinking,” Peggy began, ducking her head to whisper into Angie’s ear conspiratorially, “This sunset is so beautiful, perhaps we could enjoy it whilst we eat?”

Angie turned her head and nodded enthusiastically. She would have kissed her if they weren’t in the very middle of the road, surrounded by nurses and soldiers. Peggy squeezed her arm gently and the pair set off towards the mess tent.

 

A few minutes later, the women had hastily piled their plates with food and slipped discreetly out of the tent together. Linking arms once again, they set off towards the edge of the camp to the tree-lined hill that offered the best view of the setting sun.

After scrambling to the top of the hill - with Peggy having to catch Angie every time she slipped on the muddy grass, nearly sending the pair of them tumbling back down - they perched themselves on a large, flat rock that overlooked the endless sea of pine trees that surrounded the camp.

Settling their plates on their knees, the two women sat in comfortable silence as they ate. The view of the sunset was magnificent - the entire forest was set ablaze in orange and pink. In more than one place, smoke rose from clearings in the trees where there had been heavy shelling. There were a few planes hovering in the distance, clearly taking advantage of the miraculously cloudless skies. She couldn’t make out whether they were allied or enemy aircraft from so far away, and there was every chance one could head their way and spot them - they would be sitting ducks up on the hill. With Peggy at her side though, Angie had never felt more safe.

“You’ll never guess who I met today,” Peggy said suddenly, around a mouthful of food. Angie often wondered how the other woman could look like the picture of refinement and beauty and still managed to be absolutely graceless. Angie couldn’t help but smile - Peggy was so wonderfully imperfect and human under that starched and polished uniform.

“The king of England?” Angie teased, laughing. It honestly wouldn’t have surprised her if Peggy had said yes.

“Close, actually,” Peggy replied, stuffing another forkful of food into her mouth, “Princess Elizabeth.”

Angie nearly choked.

She dropped her fork dramatically onto her plate and stared at Peggy, eyes wide with surprise. “No foolin’?”

“No fooling.” Peggy responded, swallowing her mouthful of food. “She’s been in France a few weeks, as an ambulance driver. She’s rather shorter than I expected.”

Suddenly, Angie remembered the brown-haired woman driving the ambulance that had covered her in muddy water earlier in the day. The same woman that had been shaking Peggy’s hand. Now that she thought about it, she did look _exactly_ like the pictures she’d seen in the papers of Princess Elizabeth. Angie simply stared at Peggy, mouth agape.

“She nearly ran me over!” Angie blurted out.

“Pardon?” Peggy responded, one eyebrow raising.

“I stepped out to get lunch and this ambulance appears outta nowhere, practically knocks me down, hits a pothole and covers me in mud!” Angie said all at once, “I thought the driver looked familiar!”

Peggy dropped her own fork onto her plate and let out a bark of a laugh.

“Well, I’m glad you think it’s funny,” Angie rolled her eyes, picking up a fork full of food and shoveling it into her mouth.

“Oh, Angie, I’m sorry!” Peggy replied, trying to conceal her smile in an attempt to be sincere. She placed a comforting hand on Angie’s thigh and rubbed it gently.

Angie glanced down at Peggy’s fingers, splayed across the fabric of her dress, caressing her lightly.

“Yeah, you’re forgiven,” Angie said, gazing upwards to meet Peggy’s eyes, “What’s she like, anyway?”

Peggy glanced away, gaze tracing over the tops of the pine trees. “Young,” she responded simply, eyes dropping to her plate as she dug at her meal with her fork.

“Only just eighteen, right?” Angie asked, scraping the enamel of her plate as she polished of the last of her dinner.

“Yes,” Peggy nodded, casting her empty plate aside, “Far too young for any of this mess.”

Angie nodded, dropping her fork onto her plate before she placed it on the ground at her feet. The sun was dipping lower on the horizon, and every now and then a bright light would illuminate the trees in the distance, followed by a muffled bang as a shell exploded. She hoped it hadn't found its target.

She tugged her pullover closer to ward off the chill, and shuffled up against the woman next to her. Peggy slipped her arm around Angie’s slim waist and drew her close until their bodies pressed together.

The sky was changing colour from pinkish-orange to a deep purple as the last rays of afternoon light began to vanish behind the treeline. The stars were already visible against the darkening sky.  Angie reached over and grasped Peggy’s free hand, twining their fingers together in her lap.

They sat perched on their rock until well after the last sliver of sun disappeared and the landscape fell into darkness. Angie let her head rest against Peggy’s good shoulder, breathing in the floral notes of the other woman’s perfume - it was stronger than usual - mixed with the faintly musty scent of her uniform. All dress uniforms smelled the same way, Angie had noticed. It was the smell of a garment that had been packed away for long periods of time until it was brought out for a special occasion.

It wasn’t a bad smell, really. In fact, Angie rather liked it. It reminded her of her brothers when they first enlisted, showing off in their smart new uniforms. It reminded her of pulling each of them into a tight hug, burrowing her face into their chests and trying not to cry, before they stepped out of the front door for the last time. She’d thought about that faintly musty smell for weeks after each of them had left, even dreamt about it. She knew she would breathe in that smell again when they returned home. Because they _would_ come home.

Angie pressed her nose against Peggy’s shoulder and inhaled the scent. They would all come home. Her brothers, Peggy. Herself. They were all going to get out of this alive.

Peggy squeezed her hand gently, before she raised their entwined fingers to her mouth and pressed a kiss against Angie’s knuckles. It was completely dark now, the forest below them a huge black sea.

“We should go back,” Peggy whispered, lips grazing the top of Angie’s head.

Angie breathed in deeply one last time before she lifted her head and nodded in agreement. “Yeah, before they send out a search party.”

Peggy laughed lightly and pressed a kiss to the corner of Angie’s mouth, before she stood and offered the other woman a hand. Angie quickly grabbed the empty plate at her feet and took Peggy’s hand gratefully, rising to her feet.

Neither of them let go of each others hand until they reached the edge of the camp.

 

The pair deposited their dirty dishes back in the mess tent and began the perilous journey over the duckboards back to their own quarters. Without any real light it was difficult to see where the wooden planks ended and the deep muddy cravasses began, and Angie found herself grasping Peggy’s arm every few feet as her boots slipped and she felt herself about to fall. Giggling and grabbing at each other in the darkness for support, they made their way as quickly as they could towards their tent.

Suddenly the _ack ack ack_ of anti-aircraft fire caught their attention, the night sky immediately lighting up like a fireworks show. The pair simultaneously turned to glance in the direction of the noise, watching the streaks of white light as the gunners fired mercilessly into the sky. The silhouette of the hunted plane came suddenly into view, and in the flashes of bright light Angie caught a glimpse of the swastika insignia on its tail and body. The plane dipped one wing and strafed sideways to avoid the fire - it was incredibly fast, much faster than any planes she’d seen before.

“Angie!” Peggy shouted above the noise, holding her hand tight, “Get back to the tent - get under the bed!”

But Angie was frozen, staring at the silhouette of the fighter jet heading directly towards them.

It all happened quickly - from out of nowhere two allied planes screamed into view behind the German plane, guns blazing. They weren’t nearly as fast as the enemy, but their machine gun fire still managed to strike the tail of jet. Despite the plume of smoke rising from the back end of the plane, it continued its evasive manoeuvres and dove dramatically down, drilling machine gun fire into the ground as it swooped low over the camp. Peggy was shouting into her ear, dragging her bodily towards the opening of the tent. The German jet had lost speed with the dive, and the pair of allied planes had their chance - within seconds they had caught up and riddled the enemy with gunfire. The nazi plane spun wildly for a moment before it spiralled nose-first - heading towards where Angie had rooted herself to the spot in terror.

In one swift movement she felt Peggy grasp her around the waist and throw her through the opening of the tent. They landed in a pile of tangled limbs just as the ear-shattering sound of the German jet plunging into the earth _far too close_ ripped through the entire camp. Peggy was on top of her, protecting her with her own body, but Angie still felt the heat of the burning jet fuel against her legs.

She wasn’t sure how long they stayed there - all Angie could hear was the ringing in her ears and the pounding of her own heart. She was vaguely conscious of her own body shaking violently, and Peggy’s strong arms wrapped tightly around her. The other woman was whispering something soothing into her ear but she couldn’t make it out.

Finally Peggy clambered off her and crouched at her side, hands tracing over Angie’s face and through her hair, willing her to look up.

“Angie, darling, are you okay?” Peggy breathed, “You’ve got to get up.”

Angie found herself complying, dragging herself up so she was sitting on the muddy grass. Peggy held Angie’s head in her hands, tilting her chin to meet her gaze. Peggy had mud on her face and a cut lip, but seemed otherwise unscathed.

“I’m okay,” Angie managed to choke out, “I’m okay.”

With a quick glance out through the opening of the tent to make sure they weren’t being watched, Peggy captured Angie’s lips in a desperate kiss. The nurse let out a small sob and kissed her back, fiercely. Angie tangled her fingers into the other woman’s curls and pulled her closer, the pair grasping each other in a comforting embrace. When Peggy pulled gently away from the kiss, she let her forehead rest gently against Angie’s, breath hot against her cheek.

“I’ve got to help examine the plane,” Peggy said quietly, and Angie was suddenly aware of the commotion outside. She could hear booming voices shouting orders and the sound of boots against the wooden duckboards as the camp sprang to action.

Angie nodded, though she still gripped Peggy’s hand tightly. “Come back soon?”

Peggy frowned, her thumb tracing soothingly over Angie’s knuckles. She lifted their hands to her mouth and pressed a kiss against the nurse's palm.

“I’ll try, darling,” Peggy responded simply, before she let Angie’s hand slide from her grasp and heaved herself to her feet. Angie watched as the other woman slipped silently from the tent to examine the wreckage of the downed plane.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm dankscully on tumblr, come say hello!


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